


sweet child of mine

by Jt4k9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:09:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jt4k9/pseuds/Jt4k9
Summary: Jon Sand is raised by Robert Baratheon as his bastard son and loved by all of Kingslanding. When his father rides North for his new Hand, he is as allways at his side. During his life Jon meets Vipers, finds love in a frozen wasteland and reawakens powers believed to be long lost. For his is the song of Ice and Fire.





	1. Robert I

**Author's Note:**

> Allright, again I am not a native english speaker, so please forgive any mistakes made. I expect this to be a long story, so I can not tell you when it will be finished. I will try to update once a week at least and hope you enjoy it. Again I have not written many stories yet, so I would truly enjoy it if you left comments, to tell me what you liked and what I could do better. This story was NOT my idea, I was inspired by a story on this forum and apologize if that upsets people. Anyway enjoy the reading.  
> 

**288 AC The Greyjoy Rebillion**

"Father" a high voice brought him out of his musings. As he looked down where he could feel a light tugging on his breeches big grey eyes stared back up at him.  
"What are you doing up this late of night ehh little one."

Putting his allmost empty goblet on the railing of the balcony he picked up the little ebony haired boy.

" I couldn't sleep, so I asked Ser Barristan where I could find you."  
At those words he looked at where the boy had come from, and indeed, besides that bloody Lannister stood the great Ser Barristan Selmy, as old as he was now still considered to be a legendary swordsman.

As he pressed the boy into his sides, putting one supporting hand under his backside, the othe over his back, he sighed. He let his gaze wonder over the city, watching the lights in the houses, following the shadows of the people walking below in the dark. They looked so tiny from up here, as if he could crush them with one heap of his fist. Chuckling lightly he leaned back a bit to have a good look at his son. The boy too had turned his haed towards the city, gazing at it with solemn eyes. A quiet one he was, but as fierce as the strongest of men.

" Did you walk up all those steps by yourself to get here?" The boy apparently startled a bit at his voice and then blushed furiously, propably embarrassed at being caught of guard. Now his little head was bopping up and down fast, allways proud at that age of having apparently done something others didn't quite consider them capable of all on their own.

"Aye, Uncle Jaimie says its good for training to walk a lot of steps in the Great Keep, so that I can end... end..." "endure" " yes endure the exhaustion of a fight." He couldn't help himself from running his hand through the locks of hair atop his sons head, wild and sticking out in every direction.

Biting his lip the boy looked at him with worry in his eyes.   
" Is it true that you have to leave soon?"   
"Aye for war"  
" Maester Melwyn said that wars are dangerous and that many people die in them. He told me about all the kings that died in great battles throughout history."   
If the maester were here now, he would have pushed him of the balcony, for scaring the boy so.   
" Aye many people die in wars, but I've allready faught the biggest one of our time and some of the greatest warriors too."   
By the gods it hurt to call that bloody dragon so  
" I've allways come back. And I sure as hell Ain't going to start dying in a battle with those fucking squids."   
" Do you swear it?"   
"Swear?"  
"Aye swear it."   
The boy said with a demanding tone in his voice, a determined look on his face.   
" Swear by the old gods and the new! Maester Melwyn also said that a kings word is worth all the castles in the world, since a king doesnt brake a promise."   
Looking amused he asked  
" That's what he said?"   
Raising his eyebrows a little staring into the snow white face. Confidence faltering slightly his son just said, apparently thinking something over and then nodding his head.  
" Something like it."  
"Hmmmm well then. I Robert of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, hereby vow to you my son, to return to you after the war is over.."   
" unhurt"   
now laughing he repeated   
"unhurt and victorious.This I swear to you son, by my honor as king and the old gods and the new."   
Slinging his thin arms around his neck the little one leaned his head on his shoulder and whispered less confident now   
" I will miss you father."   
Then the boy pecked him on his cheek and lips and was off again, swiftly followed by his kingsguard.

That boy would be his downfall, not once in all his years had he been able to deny him a request, he was lucky that he would ask for much anyway. And wasn't that odd in and around itself, he was the son of a king and all he had ever asked for were swordlessons from the kingsguard, a couple of times he asked to lend rare books Maester Pycelle hadn't wanted to grand him access to. At six years of age that boy read books he couldn't even understand the content of or at least find interest in and learned to fight from the best swordsmen in westeros. Aye a good boy he was, smart and strong. He had given the boy the Lord Commander of his own Kingsguard to protect him, an unusual decision even if the boy were trueborn, but a necessary one. He didnt trust those bloody twins to not kill him. He eyed Jaimie Lannister for awhile. The man was looking after his son with a small smile on his lips. Bye the gods the boy was a gift, while his lannister whore of a wife had fallen under his spell also, he still thought that that might be part of a bigger plot, but the Kingslayer on the other hand seemed to honestly like the boy.  
"If your dear sister ever decided to get rid of the boy, would you do it?"   
Looking at him now the golden haired man just said in an even tone  
"My sister loves the boy as if he were her own son, she would not kill him."   
But he could see the painful uncertainty hidden in his eyes.  
"That's not what I asked Lannister. Would you protect my boy, or would you kill him."   
"I...I would protect him."   
"I might die in a battle or so, I want certainty."  
"I would find a way so bring him north."   
Surprised he looked up.Did he know?!   
" Ned Stark is a friend of yours,I would bring him there."  
Smiling now the King replied.  
" I guess you still have some honor left. You are going with me to defeat the squids, I hope you have prepared everything."   
" A kingsguard doesn't need much."   
Silently agreeing he turned back to the shithole that was Kingslanding. He leaned forward some, drinking the last of the wine and breathing in deeply. Up here on top of the red keep was the only time a man could truly breath, down there one could only smell shit. He was leaving in the morning to once again lead Westeros in war. Robert smiled slightly, he was going to smash that damned iron fleet and eradicate the line of Balon Greyjoy, he would do the fucking Lannisters proud with what he had planned, not that that mattered to him.

He startled slightly once again. That had been the first time someone made him vow to return. This night had been the first night when someone worried about whether he lived or died to such an extant. He had to smile at that, for not even a King was imune to love.


	2. Robert II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right I will be honest with you, this is just supposed to be a quick little chapter inbetween the real story, kind of like a flash back. I will do those as i see fit. I have the next chapter allready finished, this just took so long because I didn't have much inspiration for this one, so expect the next chapter and the one after that real soon ( also allready finished)

**283 AC, after Robert's Rebillion**

"How dare you!!"

Gone was the sweet docile lady from only one moon ago. A lady that smiled at the right moments, in carefully laid out intervals, a lady that would carry a conversation and at the same time not be overbaring.

A facade, he had known as much when he met her. People believed him to be ignorant of such things, but stupid he was not.

It was not ignorance that brought him here, instead he just didn't care enough to get to know the person behind the propriety drilled into them since birth. To be honest even now, with his newly acquired wife he was not shocked that she was such a bitch. This was not about love, for he had only loved once and Lyanna was gone now.

Cercei was just a tool, a tool to be used to get to Lannister armies, to get to Lannister gold. If marrying the whore was all it took to get that, well then it was a small price to pay. She was noone, she was nothing and he had decided on that years ago when he laid eyes on Lyanna for the first time.

And still, even though he married her to win the war he lost everything, well maybe not everything, for when he looked down at the sweet child in his arms he could not help but smile. 

"He is a bastard, how dare you bring him into this castle, to be raised here with my trueborn children."  
Angrily, he stood, towering over her, imposing nontheless because of the heavy armor he had entered the castle with.  
" Lady Lannister, you are my wife, not to have opinions unless they match mine, and to shut up the rest of the time. Have you given me a child yet? No, then this child is no concern of yours."  
Seething, the woman stormed of, her handmaidens following her like little ducklings their mother.

All bloody Lannisters, his castle was swarming with them. Well that might be because they had pretty much just secured the city, with the North hightailing it out of the Southern Kingdoms as fast as they possibly could.

He had to snort at that,one more month here and Neds forces would have probably melted away. The winner of the war melted into little puddles after it was done, or burned to ash.

He looked down at the little child in his arms, laying him down in the crib that had been brought to him, upon his inquiry. Big grey eyes staring back at him, Lyanna staring back at him, watching him intently. Sighing he let himself drop into the chair beside his son, looking for the first time around the room and its decoration.

The walls told the stories of Targaryen Kings, carefully carved into stone or woven into tapestries hanging from the ceiling. He decided that he would burn them later. The crib, Jon layed in, had the markings of Targaryen history also, telling the story of Aegon the conqueror, golden and even a bit of Valyrian steel worked into the wood. He would have to build a new one.

Jon was as docil a child as they could be, never crying much unless he was truly in need of something, mostly that something had been him, Jon making his displeasure known whenever he was seperated from his new favorite person. Big, round eyes staring back at him, he nudged the child a little, getting a squeal in response. The boy had started making laughlike sounds of happiness a while ago, perfectly unaware of the war that had shaken the kingdom. Content in his ignorance, the baby shoved Roberts fingers into his mouth and began to suck. His action startled a laugh out of the new King of the Seven Kingdoms, or well the King to be.

What a pair they were. He had seen the girls, practically swooning in place when they saw the child in his arms. A big warhammer swinging warrior, content to be a father of a crying baby. It had people wondering allready who the mother was, that the boy received such care, whereas he had been nothing but impatient with that wife of his. Pulling his fingers away, he picked Jon up, a little stiff because of the armor.  
"I understand loud and clear; you are hungry. Well then, lets find someone who will feed us, you some milk, and me a boar."  
Laughing he started down the hall. Upon turning the corner he allmost ran over Ser Jamie Lannister, who it would appear had been in a hurry. Narrowing his eyes he looked at the Knight in suspicion.  
"What's got you in such a hurry Kingslayer?"  
As the Lannister knight visibly flinched at his new title he could not help but give a cruel smile. He didnt even care that Aerys was dead by the hand of his own Kingsguard, he simply enjoyed tormenting golden haired brats, mainly because it seemed his wife would not be bothered by his words. Stuttering the kight answered  
" I had just been speaking with my sister..."  
" Your sister? Well it all makes sense now, I would run from her too if I could"  
As he was about to walk of, he was stopped short at Jon making excited sounds, making grabbing motions towards the young knight. Grunting, he pulled the boy closer in response, he was too trusting that boy of his, liking everyone he had met so far. He would have to teach the boy to avoid Lannisters like greyscale when he grew older. Glaring at the Lannister knight he walked off with determination. He had better things to do than talk to Ser Jaimie, after all he had a son to take care of and of course a kingdom to reign.

After having found both a wetnurse and a caregiver for his son he left for his solar. He had left the boy under the protection of Ser Barristan Selmy with clear instructions not to let a Lannister close to him.

Ser Barristan had surrendered himself after the battle of the Trident, and even though he had been part of the enemy forces he soon found him to be the most trustworthy man in Kingslanding. He was sure that even if Ser Barristan might be able to betray him, he had enough honor not to kill an innocent child, for what kind of man could call himself a knight and commit such crimes. Ser Gregor Clegan came to mind. Ned was right he thought, the man should have been punished, but it was better this way. The last of Rheagars children were dead, well the ones known at least, and with them died the hope of seating a Targaryen on the throne once more. If he could now only get the last one of them, but Volantis was far and the last remaining Targaryen Kingsguard would do everything to hide them.

These were issues he would have to deal with for years to come, only because his brother had been incapable of capturing them in the first place.

Sitting in his solar, reflecting over the situation he found himself in, he thought of Jon as well.He thought he would hate the child he had been burdened to protect, but as he stared at the boy upon meeting him for the first time, he could not help himself but think of the boy that could have been his child. Stark grey eyes, light skin, and black thick hair, those could have easily been the traits of a son of his with Lyanna, and that had been the final reason for his decision to keep the boy close.

He could have been his son, and now he would be and none would be the wiser. All witnesses dead that could have told of a different tale and the only words remaining that could say different where the words echoing in his head.

**"Promise me, Robert..."**


	3. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on it goes... I know from experience how annoying it can get to not get to the pairing immediately, but it will happen at some point so just hang in there.

288AC

Ser Barristan and he had ridden out today, it had been a couple of month since his father left and he had been pretty much locked in the Red Keep since then. " Safety" his mother had pointed out, one could not trust the squids from taking the royal family prisoner, while most of the men were at war.

At some point Ser Barristan had said that it would be good for the boy, the boy was him, to ride around the city some, perhabs because he had been annoying the knight so.

Jon smirked proudly at that, looking at the knight mischievously.

It would assure the people of Kingslanding that the war was going well, if the royal family wouldn't stay hidden behind high walls of the great castles, the knight had further commented. Even if said member of the royal family, was a bastard.

Upon further inquiry his mother had reluctantly agreed and allowed him to ride out, with Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard and a couple of the men of the city watch.

All had been well until a commotion close to the market broke out. Some citywatchmen dragged a boy not much older than he himself forward by a hand. A man cursing the boy by every step they took, following the men, until they reached a wooden table.

"What is the meaning of this!", he attempted to sound like his father when he was giving an order, but he was propably not that successful with still being a child and all, still the citywatch stiffened some as they saw him atop his horse.

The older one of them was quick to answer "the boy stole an apple, my..." now stuttering unaware of which title he should adress him with the goldcloak looked at his brother in arms with uncertainty.

" and now?"

" Now we follow the Kingslaw, he's got to loose his hand." Hesitating only a second he asked the boy.

"Why would you steal it?"

When the boy didn't answer immediately, one of the Watchmen hit him upside the head .

" Answer the lord."

" I was hungry, without any money, them prices hav'been high lately, my lordship."

Some people now murmured in agreement around him. Looking at Ser Barristan who was watching intently, the old knight answered his silent question " The war, while we have enough food, since it's summer, delivering it here has become more difficult, some loads have been destroyed and to get the money back in they had to raise the prices" nodding he looked back at the boy "I'am no lord, just a bastard."

He got of his horse, the knight following his example. " You there" he pointed at the merchant "what do you sell?" "All kinds of food... me lord.." looking pointedly at Ser Barristan the man brought some silver pieces forward. Taking the pieces he gave a couple to the merchant" bring me some of your products for this."

As he watched the merchant shuffle away he looked back at the goldcloaks and asked them to loosen their grips some.

As the older man returned he carried a basket filled with different foods and a loaf of bread, he handed said basket back to him and then held out a hand with the money that was left " keep the money, see it as a compensation for all the excitement and that apple." "Thank you me lord." Bowing, quiet uncertain what else to do the merchant stepped back.

Gesturing to the boy he told him to step forth " This is for you, it will not hold long, but it should be enough food for awhile. Additionally this does not mean that I like people stealing food, but in the name of my father I shall show you mercy this once." "Thank you, me lord is very generous."

He had to look up some and saw the clear gratitude in the taller boys eyes, he looked him up and down. He had dark brown hair, dark eyes and was wrapped in dirty rags, not even wearing boots or in this weather more apropriate sandals. One of the poor fellows then, living on the streets of flea bottom.

" You may leave now." "Yes of course." Hurrying back to wherever he had come from the boy was quick to push through the crowd that had gathered around them.

He himself got back on his horse with a little help from Ser Barristan, short even for his age it was difficult to get on the huge horse that he rode. Once atop, he addressed the two goldcloaks that had sour looks on their faces. " I must thank you Sers for your servive today, I apologize if I have caused you any trouble with my actions." The two men now puffing out their chest in pride, for even though he was the bastard of the King, the King himself and even the Queen considered him their son, and therefore his word equaled law, muttered that that was quiet allright and that they didn't like hacking of the hands of children anyway. Smiling at the men some, he turned his horse around to ride back to the great keep.

" Ser, where does the remaining food go, from what is eaten in the great keep ?" " The pigs, I imagine. The rest is propably waste." "Once we return to the great keep could you ask Lord Varys to come to my solar please." "Yes of course, my prince." Frowning he turned to Ser Barristan, " I am not a Prince either.", " Forgive me, but you reminded me of one." Smiling slightly the elderly knight turned his eyes back to the streets.

Back in his room, he bid Lord Varys entry, after he heard a knock on the door. The Master of Whisperers entered slowly, allmost gliding over the ground in his long satin clothing. "You asked for me,my Prince." He had to smile at that, while others of high standing had gotten used to not giving him any titles or just called him a royal bastard behind his back, Varys insisted on calling him prince. His father the King allways looked suspicious at that, but seemed to be pleased enough at the title.

"Aye, I know that this is not necessarily your responsibility, but if I am correct, you yourself grew up on the streets?" "Worse, my prince, I spent my childhood in the pleasure houses of Lys." His eyes widened slightly at that "So you sold yourself?" "People do a lot for survival, my prince."  
Nodding to himself he answered with a short " Indeed" 

"Does this line of questioning have anything to do with what you encountered today on the streets of Kingslanding?" Not surprised at all that news had allready reached the man, he smiled at the bald man " I wish to help them some, and I imagined you could help me with it. I wish to purchase a bigger house down in flea bottom and I want the citywatch to bring the food that is not eaten down there every day. I want three of them to oversee that it is distributed to the poorest of Kingslanding." He had until now not seen the spider smile so wide, but responded in kind with a conspiratorial smile of his own. "If it is not to much to ask, I wished for you to find an appropriate house in flea bottom for such purpose." " That will of course not be an issue, my prince, shall I inform Lord Baelish about the project, so that he can look into the funding of it." His eyes widening, he shook his head no. "I would rather like it if the project were to be funded by myself, and if you are interested you may be part of it as well, but I would ask you not to inform Lord Baelish of my intentions. " " Very well that should not be a problem, I will get to work right away, and may I comment that in these past few months you have grown up to be a lot wiser as most your age would be, as you yourself were when your father was still here. I believe your actions reflect well on your father and his House."  
" Thank you Lord Varys." He knew that what Lord Varys said was true to a certain extent, but he feared it was only so, because he learned to play a role. Maester Merwyn and Lord Tyrion had taught him the importance of words and the many stories he read only furthered that skill, and so he had felt obliged to be taken seriously in the absence of his father, with little Joff still being so young and his mother pregnant .

His father had explained to him that he would get enough money distributed to him by the crown for all his needs, but maestar Melwyn had explained that the way he spent money, he would probably have enough allready to survive to the last of his days.

The clothes he wore, while some of the finest silks were often presents from his father or uncle Renly. And the horse,named Fury after the words of his fathers house, had been a gift from Oberyn Martell, whom he had met a year ago, while the Prince of Dorne had visited the city.

Anger had burned in the Dornishmans eyes everytime he had gazed at his father, but as much as he seemed to hate him, he had been nice enough when he had quiet literally run into him in the gardens. He had caused quiet the mayhem in the armory of the Goldcloaks, when he had played knight by himself and had literally set it afire. He had retreated quiet enough in the following panic and had tried to run from any punishment, it had worked until he found himself on the ground with at least three spears and two swords at his throat and an amused Dornish Prince staring down at him.

Jon shook the memory away and thanked the Lord for his assistance, before dismissing him. He liked having a purpose and while the lessons with his maester Melwyn and Ser Barristan were quiet interesting, he had a lot of free time. His Mother, the Queen was often busy with his little half brother, who at four also liked to follow Jon around. But in the last week little Joffrey had been sick and as to not get affected, his Mother had asked him to keep a bit of a distance. He would visit him tomorrow after the Maesters lessons and before practice. Nodding to himself satisfied, he went to bed.


	4. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback ahead!!!!

**First meetings**   **288** **AC**

Running from the possiblity of an extended stay in his rooms, he rounded another corner, his little feet carrying him as fast as they would go.

He hadn't ment to set the armory on fire, he had only wanted to play knight, but then as he tried to pick up a sword leaning on a wall, he had managed to throw over a shield, which in return had thrown over a bowl of burning oil and in a few moments the entire room stood in flames.

With quickly burning banners hanging on the walls the smoke had been dark and thick enough that he choked on every breath he took. He had made his way out of the armory in a hurry and gotten away fast enough to not get caught immediately. Well that was until he ran into the hard body of a person walking around a corner in the gardens.

He found himself on the ground with weapons pointed at him, screaming out the only thing that came to mind " It was an accident" As soon as he had said those words another person spoke up; " Take those weapons down" he heard a booming voice coming from behind him. Ser Barristan seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and was now holding his sword at the ready, eyeing his opponents with a burning gaze. He had thought that he had managed to escape the knight some time ago, but if he stood there now, he probably knew who was responsible for the fire.

Growning miserably he suddenly found himself being put back on two feet, no longer a single weapon pointed in his direction " Now, now, I must apologize for the way my men reacted my prince." All that was said with a strong accent and a mocking tone. Jon found himself staring back at two dark eyes and replied just as fiercly " I am no prince, I am Jon Sand." He could see the surprise in the other mans eyes at his loud exclamation and looked back up defiantly, daring the man to make a remark about his bastard name.

He heard the nervous shifting of the Kingsguard behind him then, his sword still at his side. Until suddently the man before him gave a heartfelt laugh, at which in return the mans companions seemed to shuffle nervously .

"And what pray tell is a Sand doing in Kingslanding being followed around by a Kingsguard?" Frowning at the man he could only tell the truth "I live here." " Here Where?" " In the Red Keep, with my father, and mother and brother and Ser Barristan and Ser Jaimie and Maester Merlwyn and Lord Varys and Pycelle, but I don't like him." Laughing again the man smiled down at him and than gave an exaggerated bow " My apology, I have not even introduced myself. I am Prince Oberyn Martell."

Suddenly excited he looked up at the man with big round eyes, filled with wonder. " You are the Red Viper! Ser Barristan told me that you are one of the best fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. How long are you going to stay? Will you teach me too?" " Jon." He turned to Ser Barristan who had spoken with a clear warning in his tone. " But Ser, he is the Red Viper." The Dornish Prince laughed at that. " Usually outside of Dorne that name is either spoken with distaste or fear, but I guess a dornish bastard understands the value of my reputation also." Confused he turned back to the Prince " Does that mean you will teach me?" " Aye boy why not, but only if you tell me why you have a Kingsguard following your every step." " Ser Barristan goes everywhere with me." " I had gathered as much, but why?" " To protect me?" He guessed, he had never really thought of why Ser Barristan was there, he just was. With an exaggerated sigh the Prince turned to Ser Barristan.

" He ist the baseborn son of the King." At that the Princes eyes turned back to his face with a hardness that had not been there before, but which soon softened as he regarded his still smiling face. He would have another teacher, and another renowed fighter of the seven kingdoms, he could not help himself, but be happy at those thoughts.

"You should count yourself lucky, Dorne does not blame children for their fathers crimes." Those words had been addressed to Ser Barristan, who visibly relaxed.


	5. Cercei I

**288** **AC**   **A**   **mothers love, Cercei I**

"Mother" a voice from the doorway sounded. Stopping her humming she turned around with a slight smile. An excited exclamation of "Jon" following her. She gestured for the little boy with the black locks and grey eyes to step forward.

"Come here love" shuffling his feet a bit the little boy came to stand next to her, gazing between her growing stomach and the little figure on the bed.

Joffrey had been sick lately and while maester Pycelle had not been keen on letting her near him in her pregnant state, he had not been able to say anything against the Queen.

" Hello Joffrey, how are you doing?"

"Much better, the Maester says that I may get up tomorrow allready! We will play together then."

"Yes that does sound like a good idea. And the more you rest now the faster you will be up again playing with Jon." She smiled down at her son, with golden hair and green eyes so much like her own, and so much like Jaimies.

"Mother, I wished to tell you of a plan of mine for flea bottom." Weaving through dark locks she only sent him an indulgent smile

" Not today my little raven head, your brother must still rest and so must I." The boy fast to please just agreed and then vanished with well wishes for the both of them. Doing the same with her sick son, she retired to her room. Her long gown swaying behind her as she stepped through the empty hallways. Most of the men had gone of to war, leaving only few soldiers behind to guard the keep and enough goldcloaks to keep the city calm.

Stepping past the room of her eldest child, she looked on with a smile at the small figure leaning over a heavy book, the boy was truly remarkable for his age.

She had been furious at first that the King had brought a bastard home, Jon Sand he called him, born in Dorne. How that disgusting oaf had gotten a Dornishwoman pregnant in the war he refused to disclose. It had probably been some whore, a woman without loyalties, that had travelled with the camp and had later returned home to give birth to the royal bastard of the House Baratheon as the people liked to call him.

She had seen him after their marriage for the first time, but before that she had allready heard enough of him. Of how the King doted on him, as usually only a mother would. The stag and the fawn,they had said. The smallest baby one could imagine in the big hand of Robert Baratheon a bull of a man.

After moving to the Red Keep she had started planning on how to get rid of him, only to than have the brat be pressed into her arms after she lost her first child, by her brother, who at the same time managed to looked fretful and hopeful. And she had only needed to take one look at the little boy, stuttering things impossible to understand, playing with her golden locks, to know that he was hers, never as much as her own children could be, but more than anything else had ever been in the world.

From then on she had made sure that everyone else understood that too. She was his mother, at least the only one he would ever know and that seemed enough for the boy to love her also, blood be damned. He became independent rather fast, his head could be seen around the keep appearing suddenly, disappearing just as fast, locks bouning up and down. Ser Barristan had trouble keeping up with him, but it mattered not, the boy usually didn't get into trouble. Moreoften just walking around discovering the places described in one of his books and listening intently to the stories told to him by the knight or the Maester that the King had sent for to come and teach his favorite little child. Cercei had often read to him when he was little, when he lay in bed and wanted to hear this story or another she indulged him happily, stroking his hair and taking him into her arms, showing him the pictures in the books. Most he liked the storie of loyal knights defending their kings and the weak. And if that didn't soothe the worries in her haert.

She had made Robert swear that the boy would only be legitimized after a second son was born to her and that when he was, her children would come first in matters of succession, even her daughters. The King had agreed to her conditions, one of the only civilized conversations ever held between the two of them. Jon on the other hand cared not for his bastard name, especially not after that damned Red Viper had come to visit and had told her little raven head, a name Jaimie had given him, about all the great warriors of Dorne named Sand. Since the Dornish Prince had come to visit, the boy had wanted to do nothing but visit all the places he had told him about, at the forefront being Dorne itself and when the matter of his name had been discussed the little one had only asked why he couldn't keep his own name. After being told the negative connotations of a bastard name, especially a Dornish one north of the southernmost region, he had put on a petulant, stern expression and stalked of, his haed held high. It was the only occasion Cercei had laughed at the side of one Robert Baratheon.

The moment was broken, when she had said that he was a proud lion after all, Robert had screamed at her disgusted that there was no lion blood in him, then they had started arguing about Joffrey and on it went. Allready used to their fighting the boy had avoided their company for a while. He seemed to be happy enough on his own, and once he needed company often came to visit Joffrey to play with him.

Her little golden haired prince was allways happy to see his brother, and even more excited when he was taken with him on one of his strolls through the Castle. Overall if now only the viper would shut up about his heroic tales,she feared not for the boys future. A position in the Kingsguard or at the side of her son as an advisor would suit him, especially since Jon allways managed to calm her boys temper, even at times where she failed. As little as her son still was, he did have a fire in him that only his brother seemed to be able sooth. A fire that allready worried people, from the talks she had overheard, she gathered that her ill tempered son was not regarded as highly as his older brother.

Sighing, she continued on her way and retired to her room, exausted from her duties as a mother and her pregnancy.


	6. Jon III

**288 AC, a childs devotion**

After receiving the approval of his mother for his project the next day, he made his way to the house that Lord Varys had chosen for his idea.

A former pleasure house, standing not on the street of silk, but in one of the poorest corners of flea bottom, it had been fast to close down.

Stepping into the run down building he looked at the empty rooms, it had probably housed some of the homeless before it was sold and cleared out again for some rugs lay in a corner or the other.

He smiled up at Lord Varys as he saw the man enter  
"I thank you, Lord Varys, for your help, It is perfect indeed!" The Lord looked around with round and doubtfull eyes and turned to him a thoughtfull expression on his face "For your young age, you are very invested in the lifes of those that need your help, it is truly...noble.. of you, my Prince." The bald man wandered over to one of the windows, staring down the busy streets.

"I do not have as many duties as my princely brother will have, I believe it is only honorable to spent my time doing something worthy." He did not add that he wished for a purpose and the companionship such would bring him, since being the bastard son of the King, he was often not seen as fit company when foreign parties visited. While his parants tried to include him as a legitimate part of the family, many sons and daughters had been taught better than to speak with him. This would be an oppotunity to get to know all sorts of people. "Still it is recommendable."

The next day the House was allready being readied for it's purpose, tables being brought in and the walls and ground were being cleaned, the upper rooms were turned into bedrooms, some of the homeless children could remain there during the night, protected by the most trusted of the citywatch.

His seventh namesday would be in two weeks and while it wasn't the biggest of occasions especially during the Greyjoy Rebillion, a little feast would be held, with mostly the ladies of the court attending, since the men were at war. What remained of the food would be the first to be brought down to flea bottom in the morning. It would also be an opportunity to ask if any might be interested to aid his plans.

 

 

**2 weeks later**

"My Prince, a Viper sent this letter and chest from Dorne." Lord Varys had entered his chambers as he was readying himself to escort the food down to flea bottom. Looking up he saw the carefully crafted wooden chest and the letter wrapped in a satin piece of cloth with the Martell sigil atop. Running towards the Spider excitedly he stopped abruptly to take the letter out of his hand. Falling back on his bed, with the chest being deposited by his side. Thanking Lord Varys he gestured towards his bed. "I prefer to stand, my Prince." Jon nodded to himself , never having seen the spider doing anything but stand, he unrolled the letter.

" Why did you bring it to me?"  
"Ah I believe the Prince would not want Maester Pycelle to be part of your correspondence." Nodding understandingly he read the letter aloud. " **My little Sand of Dorne, I would have liked to bring this to you personally, but the current tension between our houses would not allow me to do so."** He looked questioningly at Lord Varys.  
"The war my Prince, Dorne did not sent any relief for the royal fleet, when it was needed."

Pursing his lips, he looked back at the letter in his hand  
**"You have told me much about your love for history, whether it be northern,targaryen or dornish and so I thought I would sent you a piece of history as well. I found this chest during my travels, but it did not seem to be ment for any I knew, until I met you. I gift thee something that once equalled the power to conquer kingdoms and even Dorne bend, bowed and broke underneath of. No other I would trust to keep it safe. With great devotion,  
The Red Viper,  
Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."**

 Nothing could have prepared him for what lay within

 


	7. Jaime I, Jon IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back... one of the Oberyn/Jon Pairings will likely be the next story to be updated.  
> and the timeline of this story will make a bit of a jump next chapter of the one after that.....

**Jaime 288 AC**

“Get those skinny arms of yours up!!”

The booming voice of King Robert Baratheon echoed across the yard, as he strode in in full armor, his booming laugh almost capable of shaking the ground he walked on.

Dropping the shield that had been held up by young arms, a whirlwind of black hair threw himself into the waiting arms of the King, the later throwing the now giggling child into the air once, twice, thrice before setting him on the ground once more. “Seems as if Ser Barristan has been trying to make a warrior out of you, aye little one?”

Ignoring the remark Jon asked his own question: “ Is the war won? Will you stay in Kingslanding now?”

The King laughed in response “ Let a man breath a bit before besieging him, will you. But to answer your questions, aye the war is over, which means I will stay here for now. Worried about me were you?” The king chuckled, “ And now that I´ve answered yours how about repaying the favor?”

Smiling Jon nodded his head, “ Ser Barristan has been training me every day, but he says I am no good with a shield, to small, but I am still growing, so that might change yet.” Pouting Jon leveled a glare at the knight of the Kingsguard.

The King looked over to Ser Barristan as well at that and raised one of his eyebrows. “ No good with the shield, is he? Isn`t he a bit young to make such a decisive statement?”

“No he is not, I have explained it to Jon already, his stature seems to be quiet…petite….he will probably be better of with two swords instead of a sword and a shield in the future, that is unless his body will change drastically, which I doubt.”

“Two swords? Like Ser Arthur Dayne?” Now excited Jon looked at Ser Barristan. Growling a bit the Baratheon King turned to Ser Barristan once more.

Feeling as if he had kept quiet long enough Ser Jaime stepped forward. “ His loyalty to the Tagaryens set aside, Ser Dayne still remains one of the most extraordinary swordsmen of westerosi history.” Those words drew the attention of the people present to him, Jon`s being the only smiling face. “ Uncle Jaime!!! Does that mean you will train me to fight with two swords too?” Humming Jaime smirked at the expression of the King; “ If your father allows it…” Tormenting that fool was simply too much fun.

Huffing at the pleading eyes that now turned to him, the King heaved a sigh and nodded his heavy head, “Aye, but only after you`ve learned to hold one right and now enough talk of fighting, I`ve seen enough of that for a while, how have you been faring? I`ve only heard good things from Ser Barristan during my time in Pyke.” At that the King cupped the head of the boy and led him away into the Red Keep, listening to tales of flea bottom and several newly discovered secret passages in the castle now only known by the King`s son and Ser Barristan, who apparently had been to big for half of them.

**Several weeks later,Jon**

Myrcella Baratheon was born during one of the hottest days Jon had ever experienced.

The sun had been warming the Keep for several weeks and now had come the point where the heat had crawled into every stone, every corner and nook, where the sun seemed to be another inhabitant of the Red Keep, and while some seemed to not mind or mind the temperature as much, Jon hated it.

Hated every second of it.

Jon had even tried all that he could to stop it; he had prayed to the seven in the sept, had even lit a little fire for the red fire god merchants talked about and had given away one of his favorite toys from when he was younger as an offering to the old gods by burying it under the weirwood tree. He did not even wish for a change of weather for selfish reasons, even though the sun seemed to steal his energy as well, no, he was praying for the heat to give way to fresh air for his mothers health.

Maester Melwyn had told him that the birth of his sibling was especially taxing on his mother`s health, because of said heat and the long hours of the day, where the sun`s rays met the keep combined with their pure force.

And even after his little sister arrived, crying louder than Joffrey ever had, his mother would not get out of bed. Instead she slept, which the Maesters said was normal, but looked extremely worried at none the less.

Jon was old enough to see through their empty reassurences and while his father may not care much for either The child or mother, he did , so it became his new found duty to take his little brother on every adventure he went on and to read to his mother in the evenings. And when he wasn`t doing that he watched over his sister, singing songs he heard from his parents and making sure that everyone was taking care of her well. Those were the only days that the septa seemed to do something besides glaring at him.

Myrcella, Jon decided was the most beautiful baby Jon had ever seen.

Joffrey did not agree with his assessment, glaring at her more than not, “ She made mother sick” seemed to have become the only sentence little Joff associated with her and while Jon did not agree, he could understand his brother well, he was small he would grow out of it, Jon was sure of it.

He did not.

It took mother a week to wake and another before she was strong enough to hold her daughter. During that time father took him on a short hunt once, so he could “take care of himself for once instead of fussing over everyone else.” It seemed everyone had for once agreed with his father`s choices and nodded their silent assent as Jon complained about not wishing to leave mother and Joff and the little girl that had still been without a name at that point alone.

Jon came back to Joff having been banned from entering the nursery, because he had accidentally set it on fire while playing.

It would be the first of many accidents to happen around Joff, but as much as Jon tried and failed to understand, his love for his brother did not change.


	8. Oberyn, Jon Arryn

**Oberyn 289 AC, a mans obsessions**

“I think I am going to foster someone.” Languishing on the many pillows, he examined the blood orange held in his hand. As he got more and more comfortable in Doran`s study, the only sound in the bright room was his brother shoveling papers around.

“You or I brother?” Doran asked from where he sat in an elaborately carved wooden chair. Not looking at his brother, the ruler of Dorne helped himself to some water. Wine was poison to a man with gout after all. Kicking up his legs, he replied after biting into the fruit he held.

“Well as I spent most of my time in Sunspear…”

“You do not”, Doran so rudely interrupted, “…and I often find myself bereft of my adventures children…”

Oh well that may have been an exaggeration on his part, but his girls did tend to travel even at such a young age, always following someone to far away places…

“They surround you more than mine.” As if that was important.

“…and I do love having company…” He bit into the blood orange once more, the juices soaking his sleeves.

“Something the entirety of Westeros is well aware of.” Why had Doran made that sound as if him enjoying other people`s company was a bad thing…

“…I thought I could use my brilliance…” Which was undeniable..

“Questionable.” Or not…

“…and teach a child…” Which would be a positive thing. Teaching children is good.

“I worry already.” Oberyn furrowed his brow at that, glaring at the remains of his food as if it had offended him. His older brother seemed entirely to doubtful, when it came to his abilities.

“…about the world.”

“World as in sex?” The older of the two looked at the other. Grunting Oberyn smiled back coyly.

“World as in everything.”

“Everything includes sex.” His brother so helpfully pointed out.

“Everything encompasses all that and more.” If his brother was going to be unhelpful, so was he.

“More being fighting?”

“Fighting,….”

Oberyn bit into a peach. “…eating,…”

“Fucking…” Doran smirked. The bastard.

“Do you believe me to be shallow brother?” Oberyn questioned. He was hurt, at least a little bit.

“I believe you to be lonely brother.” Doran looked at him with something akin to pity. Oberyn was sure it was only for show, pity did not have a place in Doran`s schemes.

“Lonely? How could I be lonely, I have to many friends to be lonely . And let`s not forget about my loving family.” Oberyn threw his brother a joyous smile, his teeth covered in the remains of his food. It was probably rather unattractive, but he did not feel the need to appeal to his brother anyway, so why bother.

“You lost family.”

“We all have.” Oberyn did not want to have this conversation. How can pointing out the obvious be helpful to anyone?

“You’ve lost very close family very recently.” Doran looked at his brother, his dark eyes burning into his skull.

“You believe this to be about Ellaria”. And wasn`t everything.

“Ellaria, vengeance for Elia,…”

“Fucking? Do not worry, the boy is not my type. To young, to wide eyed, to sweet.” And he was pretty sure Doran knew that, knew everything about what Oberyn did and why, so this conversation was essentially pointless.

“And now you wish to create darkness in light.” Or maybe his brother knew even more than he of his own intentions?

“I always liked contrast.” Oberyn hadn`t thought about it this way. Did he want to taint the boys character, to make him more like himself. He liked to think that he was better than that.

“Please don’t tell me that this is about your newfound obsession.” Doran widened his eyes as if he had just figured that one out. Oberyn snorted.

“I am not obsessed.” Obsessed was to strong of a word. Curious maybe.

“You stand by the Maester`s tower waiting for ravens like a maiden pining for a lost lover.” Oberyn bit into the core of the peach and a sharp pain shot from his teeth through his jaw all the way into his head.

“As I said I am not interested in the boy.” Oberyn was more serious this time, he left no space to argue. Doran of course argued.

“Sexually no, but as we just discussed, your obsessions reach further than that.” That calmed his nerves a bit, Oberyn may not care much for his reputation with outsiders, but he did not wish for Doran to believe that he was interested in a child. Not in that way.

“Fighting” he murmured.

“Vengeance.” Doran answered.

Grinning at the peach core, Oberyn smirked. “Don’t forget the food.”

“Brother.” Ah that sounded like a reprimand, he should answer that.

“Brother.” He repeated in a mocking tone, grimacing at his brother.

“He is the kings son.” And again with the obvious.

“Bastard son.”

“Why do you care?”

He didn`t. “I don’t.”

“The king doesn’t care either.” Oberyn knew that, that’s what made it more fun.

“I need something to do.” Besides fucking, fighting and eating. A responsibility. His children were either dead or grown up, and he hadn’t fathered any new ones recently, so why not steal the King`s bastard, can`t be that bad.

“A new obsession.” Doran was once more busy shoveling papers around.

“And what if he is?” Oberyn stood then, to much energy to remain seated any longer.

Doran sighed with much exaggeration then. “I worry.” He stated, as if it were news to Oberyn.

“About the bastard son of Robert Baratheon.” Oberyn replied stupidly.

“About you…” He stood as well. Shaky legs having a hard time to even carry him across the room.

“.. you sent the boy dragon eggs?.” There was a question in his brothers eyes.

“I like the child.” Oberyn didn’t see the problem, its not as if they would hatch.

“As you’ve stated before... Those eggs were meant for the Targaryens, to cement an alliance.” He hadn’t just sent the Baratheon bastard the dragon eggs because he liked him, or because he was trying to antagonize Doran. Secretly the thought that two Targaryens would be without their ancestors symbols of power, even if they were long dead and cold, and quiet literally stone made him overjoyed. He did not share his brothers view on a potential alliance.

Aerys, Rhaegar, two mad cunts that destroyed the realm, so why add a third in his lifetime? He didn’t need a silver haired prick to kill Tywin and Clegane, just his spear.

“We don’t need dead stones for that.” Oberyn answered moodily.

“They were meant as a symbol.” He didn`t give two shits.

“They were not your symbol to give.” Oberyn found them after all.

“Oberyn. I fear for your lust for vengeance… what if you loose it…” He had to snort at that, maybe his brother did not understand everything that went on in his head after all.

“Do not worry … the day I do not think of vengeance is the day I loose my head.” Stroking his hand down his neck he wondered what that would look like. Maybe mounted on a spear, Lannisters dancing around it. He was sure that his severed head would be the most wonderful sight in the seven kingdoms, it was a pretty head after all.

Doran crooked his head as if he was reading his thoughts, his expression speaking of utter exaggeration at his brothers antics. “Or the day your dreams are fulfilled.”

“Or that.” Oberyn had had enough of this conversation, he had other things to do.

“You can not drag the son of the king around the world, it is a dangerous place and by the looks of it, he won`t permit it.” I won`t permit it, was left unsaid.

“Who said I would ask for permission.” He never did after all.

“ Foster children are not supposed to be dragged around the world.”

“A squire then.” Would teach the child a couple of lessons he could use.

“Of what I heard he is as good as the squire of Ser Barristan.”

“ The old man can come with us and I am not beneath stealing if he should refuse to, the king can not deny Dorne such a simple request.”

“The king can do as he pleases.” Oberyn snorted for surely Doran hadn’t seen that the King couldn’t deny his son anything.

“Brother I feel as if you are working against me.” He felt like whining so he did, he always did what he felt like doing after all. Even stealing Ser Barristan`s squire.

“In this case I am.”

“Why?“

 “Your obsessions tend to get in the way of my politics.” Our politics. Oberyn couldn`t help but think. Their revenge, it just took so long and this was a small thing after all.

“As if you have not learned to play your little game around my antics.” Doran always liked to play, Oberyn may have been a viper, striking and killing fast, but it almost seemed as if his brother preferred a more cruel approach. Doran played with his food, sometimes without them realizing.

“I have, but even I tire.” Doran wrapped gaunt fingers around shaky legs at that. Oberyn moved to the door, they were not a family for weakness, or simple sympathy, but of action.

“So does that mean I have permission.”

“Do you even care?” “No.” A lie. Doran knew it. Oberyn always cared for what his brother had to say. Enough not to run up to Tywin and pick his brain apart with a dagger.

**Jon Arryn, some time later**

“That fuckin Viper dares?!!!!!!”

Robert threw a vase after the man baring the letter from Dorne. “Really!!!” An excited squeal could be heard from behind Lors Arryn. “ ohh please let me go, Oberyn promised to show me Volantis and Old Valyria and Lys and…”

“By the Seven I will strangle that fucking snake till his eyes pop out!” Roaming around the room,leaving destruction where he went, Robert panted like a bull.

“Your grace I do not think…”

“I don’t give a shit about what you think Jon, he is not taking myyy son” This could be good, this could be great even. Jon did not have much to do with the boy, since he had his duties as hand, and inevitably the duties of his King to deal with, but this development would make many things easier. Such a simple request from Dorne.

“This is not an unreasonable…”

“Not unreasonable, this is as if we are offering them a hostage!” Bastards don`t make good hostages, Jon could not help but think. It may have been unkind, but the Martells could not do much with the boy, no Lord would go to war for a bastard, even a royal one.

“Oberyn wouldn’t…” The childish voice reappeared.

“Oberyn? “ So did the Kings, tinted with jealousy, he was after all often only `Your Grace`by now, and seldomly, in the most private moments `father`.

“We talk in letters sometimes father.” The child replied helpfully.

“I cant believe this.” Robert sank into his chair like a sack of potatoes.

“Robert.” He said firmly.

“No.” That sounded final.

“Please.” The boy whispered.

“Fuck!” Or not.


End file.
